


Lots to Learn

by you_guys_are_losers (courting_insanity)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, PeterMJ - Freeform, Spideychelle, kiss, kiss prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courting_insanity/pseuds/you_guys_are_losers
Summary: In the wake of a big disappointment, Peter and MJ learn a little bit about what it means to be there for each other.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Lots to Learn

It’s been a good day for Peter since the beginning, even though it’s a hard one for her. 

Peter gets the text at 7:30 in the morning. He’s a morning person; even on a weekend, there’s no way he ever makes it past seven before he is awoken by his body. This is something MJ knows, and so his first instinct when he hears her text tone is to grin to himself. The second thought, which follows immediately after, is concern. 

She almost always stays up until 3 AM writing on the weekends… Why would she be texting him this early? As Peter fumbles for his phone where it lies on his cluttered desk, another text from MJ comes in. As soon as he sees the messages, his heart sinks. 

**Hey. I didn’t get in. I’m fine.**

Then, two minutes later: 

**I’m not. Come over**

He was there in ten minutes.

At his insistence, the day since then has been a blur of MJ’s favorite things. Doing each other’s nails in dark colors while they watch _Don’t Fuck With Cats_ in the dark of her room, something that they’ve been doing more and more since they returned from Europe. At first, MJ is mostly quiet, but by the time they’re half an hour in and Peter has finally finished painting her nails dark purple, there is the ghost of a smile on her face as she examines the bumpy polish. 

After that, it’s people-watching on a park bench with middle-eastern street food, placing bets on who is most likely to be a serial killer and making up outlandish backstories for the most normal-looking people. Then, Peter convinces May to let him take the car out so that they can drive to the Mysterious Book Store, MJ’s favorite spot. On the way there, they listen to MJ’s favorite conspiracy podcast (”Lizard People”); on the way back it’s MJ’s mix of music, which Peter is never opposed to, as they banter over who made the better purchase. Then, it’s back to her place, where Peter is currently in the process of cleaning up after their dinner mess. 

MJ is fiddling with her laptop, trying to illegally download the documentary she has been telling him about for weeks that he never got around to actually watching, when he finally breaches the topic. 

“So,” he mentions, his voice rising slightly in pitch as he sets the pan they used for stir fry in the dishwasher. “Are you… Y’know. Are you okay?” 

Even with her back to him, Peter can see MJ’s shoulders stiffen from the sofa. There is quiet between them for a minute as Peter puts their forks away, but it is not an uncomfortable one. It’s the kind of silence he’s grown accustomed to since he and MJ have started spending more time together: a pensive quiet. Sometimes, MJ needs a minute to put her thoughts together. Ever since she first expressed the need for it, Peter’s grown to appreciate it more and more. 

Right now, though, that appreciation is mingled with concern. 

After a second, MJ quietly exhales from on the sofa, turning her body slightly so that she is looking into the kitchen while he puts in the dish soap. The machine has started to whir softly before she finally answers, brown eyes watching him intently. 

“I mean, I’m disappointed. But I think I will be.” Her tone is quiet, measured. Still, Peter can hear the slight catch in her throat on the word ‘think,’ and his eyes met hers, holding her gaze. She quirks the corner of her lips up into a small, slightly sad smile, asking him not to mention it. He nods and lets out a breath, straightening up and heading to her little box of loose-leaf tea, which she has painted with dark foliage. 

Despite the heaviness to her gaze, a quiet, thankful gratitude sparks in those eyes as MJ follows the movement. “The middle finger mug. It’ll help me maturely manage my feelings.” 

Peter’s snort of amusement causes her little smile turn into a smirk, and her shoulders relax as he retrieves the mug and lightly scoops some of her lavender tea into it. No diffuser for her– MJ likes the texture of the wet leaves, something she has always insisted vehemently. However, Peter fills one of the tiny metal contraptions up with his cinnamon chai, and then sets his Ruth Bader-Ginsburg to steep on the counter beside the mug she requested, which is currently flipping the kitchen off. 

Peter rests his back against the counter, facing her in the quiet for a second. Her wicked smirk softens slightly as they take the moment to just look at one another across the warm light of her parents’ apartment, breathing each other in. She’s told him about how empty it feels here when her parents are gone for work (so all the time); since then, he’s made every effort to be here as often as he can. They’ve built a friendship here, learning each others’ rhythms and preferences. Sometimes, they’ve built a little more than that… Her head on his shoulder when she falls asleep to a move, her fingers tentatively stroking his hair when he collapses on the sofa beside her after a patrol night. 

Even now, in this moment of disappointment, they’re building something strong– stronger than rejection. 

“Maybe it’s good.” MJ speaks up, causing Peter to lurch out of his thoughts, out of the dark eyes he’s grown to love drowning in. 

“Huh?” 

“Berkeley,” Michelle hums, amused as she shoots him another smirk. “I mean… It’s California. Far. Bard is closer.” 

“Right, totally,” Peter says quickly to show he’s paying attention. “Besides, you know, California people… Lots of, uh, social media influencers and stuff.” He’s really just citing his stereotypical knowledge of the West Coast, but MJ seems to appreciate the effort. 

“Yeah. A ton of people pretending that everything is perfect,” MJ agrees. “I’d probably suffocate. And really hot, too.”

“But you’re always cold,” Peter finds himself saying, bemused.

MJ shoots him a look, but she seems to find the comment funny. “Not helping, Peter. Come on, at least _try_ to slander this place with me.” 

“Right, sorry.” Peter can’t help his grin as she turns back to her laptop, responding to the ‘ping’ of its tinny speakers telling her that her piracy is complete. “Well, slander sounds good to me… With our drinks, of course. Wait, we could spill tea both literally _and_ metaphorically.” 

“Peter…” 

Peter grins as he picks up the cups, back to her once more as he tries to balance the heated mugs so that they will neither spill nor burn his hands off. “Sorry, sorry. I know terrible puns won’t help right now. Though, I don’t really know if they would help ever-” 

_“Peter.”_

There is something in her voice, which has gone deathly quiet, which causes Peter to turn a little too fast. He winces as the cinnamon-scented tears of Satan splash onto his skin, but as he quickly sets down the mug his eyes do not leave the back of her head, which is frozen above stiffened shoulders. 

“MJ, are you…” 

“Peter, I got in.” 

There is a moment of silence, and the only sound is the dripping of the tea that Peter spilled slipping over the lid of the counter-top. Peter is frozen for a moment, eyes wide as he looks to where she is sitting. After a moment, he finds his voice. 

“But, I thought-” 

“There was a mistake with my email,” MJ says, turning to face him. Her eyes are wide, and though she is clearly trying to stay calm, the speed of her tone and the smile that bursts through no matter what betray her emotions. 

“They got me mixed up with another Michelle Jones. Apparently it’s a common name, but I think it’s more likely the government was trying to suppress my voice by restricting my access to higher education-” 

“MJ.” This time it’s Peter’s turn to interrupt, a grin edging across his lips as his eyes take in her dancing eyes. “You got in.” 

A laugh bubbles from Michelle’s throat, wild and incredulous and something that sounds like a dream. “I got in.” She says the words once, testing them out on her lips, and apparently liking the way they feel. “I got in!” 

“You got in.” 

In an instant, she is tripping over herself to get off her sofa, and Peter is racing across the kitchen to meet her in the hug that she initiates. Her arms wrap around his neck as his circle her upper back, holding her tight as she laughs. For a moment, he holds her close his eyes squeezing shut as she wraps her arms tighter around her neck. 

After a few heartbeats of pure elation, Peter pulls back just slightly. MJ does the same, her eyes holding pure light in the dim glow of her living room lamp, and her arms do not leave his neck. The two stand together in the embrace, and suddenly Peter feels his heartbeat increase as he comes to a realization. 

He… Wants to kiss her. 

Peter bites his lip, catching his breath, and MJ’s eyes flicker down to his mouth before returning to his own. There is something more than just excitement now… A tentative, uncertain glimmer of something deeper, and understanding. 

The two of them haven’t kissed since returning from Europe. They’ve held hands, they’ve sat next to each other and given little touches and even snuggled a bit closer for warmth. But they’ve been taking it slow; MJ doesn’t like labels, and Peter’s happy to just explore what they are and save the kiss they’ve already shared for the moments when he feels like he can’t keep going. 

But now, he can’t seem to suppress the urges he is feeling: to bring a hand to her cheek, to brush the few wisps of hair that have fallen into her eyes away using a gentle touch. And, based on the way her hands come to rest, brushing the base of his neck, he thinks that she just might feel the same. 

“I’m happy for you,” he whispers, trying not to think about the lack of distance between them. 

“Y-yeah,” MJ breathes, lips slightly parted as she looks down at him. “You know, Scientology first started in Southern California, and the Manson Murders were in L.A. So if I get any offers to join a cult, I’ll totally make sure that they’re willing to recruit you.” 

Peter laughs softly, but his eyes don’t leave hers. Lightly, her fingers relax at the nape of his neck, cradling it gently. He catches his breath as her thumb carefully strokes the skin there, and he can tell she notices by the way she holds her own breathing. 

“MJ… Can I kiss you?” 

There is a moment of quiet between them as her finger stops caressing the back of his neck and she stares inscrutably into his eyes. Peter blinks several times, cheeks warming. 

“I mean, it’s okay if-if not. I’m happy for you either way, and I just… I’m crazy proud of you, even though they’d be stupid not to accept you really, and I-” 

Her lips come down to meet his before he can dig himself into a deeper hole. 

It’s their first kiss since the bridge in England, and as his eyes flutter closed Peter is worried that maybe he’s doing it wrong. At first, it’s not quite the right angle– she’s taller, for one, and it takes a second to bring their lips together so that they fit against one another. 

The kiss is hesitant, gentle… Experimental. Peter knows Michelle, and he knows that it takes her a moment to get comfortable in new experiences. This is new for him, too, so it’s good to take it slow. Her mouth is soft against his own, careful, and at first it’s just a gentle brushing of their lips. 

Then she kisses him again, and this time it’s more insistent. They’ve started to figure it out: where their noses need to go, how to hold themselves. One of her hands gently moves up the back of his neck, gently sliding her fingers into his curls. The other comes to cradle his cheek as his own hands lightly tug her upper back closer, offering support. 

It’s perfect. It’s new and it’s a kiss of growing, of learning each others’ angles and contours and keeping them in mind. It’s the lemon-flavored Italian soda they had with dinner, it’s MJ’s beeswax lip balm, it’s the feeling of his hoodie swallowing her slim shoulders beneath his fingers. It’s the quiet of her apartment and the soft hum of appreciation that travels from her lips to his before they gently part, foreheads resting together to take a breath. 

Peter keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and when they flutter open they find her deep, dark irises peering into his curiously. There’s a shy grin on her lips, but though both are a bit bashful, she’s not hiding. 

She’s letting him look, letting him see her in a way that no one else gets to. For all of her walls and her mystery, MJ is inviting Peter to read her story and to stand by her side as she writes it. 

She’s sharing one of the biggest moments of her life with him, and Peter has never been so grateful. 

When Peter closes the distance between them once more, her raspy laugh against his lips tastes like home. In the warmth of her apartment, free of pressure and labels and prying eyes, Peter is happy to prompt many more soft laughs, to explore the place he has found at her side for as long as she’ll let him. 

**Author's Note:**

> //Hey! This is a prompt from a list that I am currently taking requests from on Tumblr. If you're stuck inside like me and want to get in on the action, or if there's a request you have that would help you deal with stress in these chaotic times, hop on into my inbox at https://you-guys--are-losers.tumblr.com/ . Stay safe and healthy. <3


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